


The Labyrinth: The Way Back

by underground_archivist



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2020-07-29 08:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20079055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underground_archivist/pseuds/underground_archivist
Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back.





	1. Chapter 1: Out of Print

**Author's Note:**

> Note from banshee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Underground](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Underground_\(Labyrinth_archive\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Underground’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/underground/profile).

  
Author's notes:

The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
Author: Aviry Nolane ([email address removed])

Date: Nov. 18, 2002 - January, 2011  
Notes:This poor fanfic has been laying around unfinished for long enough. I am editing, posting, and finishing it if it's the last thing I do! Please read along and enjoy! If you have any suggestions, please don't be shy! It's been nearly a decade, but I will end this as best and quickly as I can!   
Rating: will be about R-ish  
  
Disclaimer: Of course the characters within (Sarah, Jareth, etc) don't belong to me... They're property of Jim Henson and Co... I have no legal rights to them whatsoever, I'm just borrowing for a moment. Rest assured, no huge royalty checks are in my mail. 

* * *

  
**\-- The Labyrinth: The Way Back --**

**Chapter One -- Out Of Print **

_She could not help but think of him._  
She could fight it no longer.  
But where to begin?  
His eyes? His hair? His disheveled but beautiful appearance? His muscular form? His sensual smile?  
There was so much to take in, so much to discover.  
And they had time to do it all.  
Now and forever, through time itself, they had each other.  
Jareth and Sarah had eternity. 

An earsplitting wail was heard, and the young brunette woman was surprised to find that it had come from her own mouth.  
The book soared through the air; its pages twisting and spilling about in a whirlwind of motion. The offensive beast roared, the hard material of its binding thudding against the wall with a resonating clap. It fell quickly to the floor then. Its body once again became a lifeless heap, incapable of hurting, indeed incapable of even moving toward, anyone.

But of course Sarah didn't know this. In fact, in her mind, this now seemingly dormant object was just as much a threat to her safety as the name it bore inside its final pages. She gasped, wide eyed with horror, as her stomach twisted and turned in a disgusting churn.

"Sarah and _who _now?" She spat. Shaking her head, the wide eyed gape of a deer caught in the headlights fell away, to be replaced by an instantaneous surge of venom that only women and vicious snakes truly understood.

Sarah, it seemed, was angry. Quite angry.

She stood, pulling herself fiercely from the tugging hold of her bed.

"No," it seemed to plead, "I'm still warm, Sarah. Warm and cozy, and full of cushions and blankets enough to last you an eternity!"

But of course Sarah did not hear this proclamation, as she didn't speak furneze, the language of the common furniture ornament, and more so - because to her mortal ears the bed was a lifeless chunk of bedroom decoration. As it was, all of the words the bed now threw in Sarah's direction she couldn't hear a single one, except perhaps for 'eternity'.

Indeed, the word was already etched firmly in her mind. All recesses of thought and conscious mind pulled towards the angry red scrawl that baited her thoughts. And even though she herself had no idea, her subconscious was consuming this new turn of events as well. Though perhaps in a different light.

"Sarah and Jareth had eternity."

Eternity.

Sarah stumbled past the bed's embrace as it whimpered its final pleas.

Her legs suddenly grappled with the idea of walking beneath her, very likely also begging her to return to bed.

But Sarah was nothing if not persistent. She pressed on, and soon she had reached the detestable object.

She stood above it, straddling her hands astride her hips and glaring down at it with a terrible sort of rage. The book saw this too, and quivered with fear. After all, it had only done what was asked of it, right? Why should a helpless romance novel suffer for someone else's devious actions?

However, to Sarah, the procession of thought went much differently in her eyes. The book was no innocent contraption; it was a messenger of evil, a conniving intruder disguised as a light read, a maggot of the Underground in harlequin's clothing. She stared on, a glint in her eye, as the thought of the book being tossed into a roaring flame entered her mind.

The book saw the meaning of this glare as well. If it had been blessed with legs and a sense of keen direction, rather than the magical curse of print that had been bestowed upon it, it is possible that it would have run straight behind the form of its awakener.

Sarah fell to her knees beside the book, decidedly still unsure pertaining to its contents. She reached down, her gaze penetrating the thick book jacket of the foe she had only a moment ago began to think of as her enemy.

Suddenly a new emotion struck her, one familiar to her in the recesses of her mind, yet not one used to the newfound regularity of her rather admittedly mundane life. Fear.

She reached out with a trembling hand to poke at the book as the intense feeling shook her.

_Was **he **here? Was he watching? Was he plotting? _

She froze. Of course he was. He was always plotting.

Her eyes narrowed again, alert for the presence in her room that she was sure existed. She turned abruptly, spinning around on her knees to be met by - - her room.

She sighed.

Was that disappointment?

No. No, she decided. That was relief. Relaxation. A release of tension. It was... Rage. She nodded at this. It must be rage. And intense rage at that.

She reached out with her left hand and before she could stop herself, flipped the book over and turned to its last pages.

She had a good mind to...

_Now and forever, through time itself, they had each other. _

Sarah read and reread the line, an expression of confusion knotting up her features. She scanned the page, half expecting to see the abominable line sneak its way back onto the page, calmly typewritten, looking entirely like it belonged there.

'Which', Sarah reminded herself, 'It doesn't.'

But still... Where was it?

She fingered through the pages, turned the book over, and finally, after several tense moments of silent inspection, gave up.

She held the book out distractedly and let it fall to the ground.

If it had been audible to the human ear, the sigh of relief that ensued from the object would have astounded Sarah. But she had already been astounded enough. She sat for a moment quietly contemplating her circumstances. She was not a child any longer, and she would be adult about this if it killed her. 'Preferably if it kills him' she scoffed silently.

A pause.

She shook her head. Thinking like that wasn't going to get her anywhere for the moment, as much as she'd like to indulge herself with the thought that Jareth's interest in her had suddenly perked after 8 years ( but who was counting? ) she had to consider other alternatives.

Had she imagined it?

It seemed the most likely cause of her distress. She nodded to herself. She had been very stressed lately, what with her mother's plans of remarriage, the restaurant opening just a week away, the unexpected proposal from Bill. She sighed, leaning back against the wall. 'Of course. The proposal from Bill.' She nodded again, it was beginning to feel quite worrisome to her that she had to keep physically assuring herself that she wasn't going crazy, and she made a mental note to check herself for any future indication that she continuously nodded to keep her inner meandering comments in check. "Bill," She sighed rolling her head back to rest on the chilly wall. Of course the unexpected proposal had to be the reason for the ... altercation that had just occurred.

After all - if it had been Jar - The cold blooded and evil Goblin King's doing, he would be here by now, gloating, no doubt.

And there was certainly no sign of that was there? No, her room was blessedly Goblin King free.

She smiled. She really felt much better now that she had convinced herself that the world was in fact not out to get her, but rather that she just had an overzealous imagination. She rose, picked up the poor tattered object beside her, and made her way back to bed.

Never mind the question of just exactly why her mind would jump to thinking about Jareth romantically at a moment of severe stress and domestic uncertainty. Never mind the fact that her dreams had finally managed to go relatively Jareth-free for the past few years. Never mind the fact that she had, even if only for a moment, felt his looming presence nearby. Never mind.

For all her good qualities, nobody had ever really thought of Sarah as dazzlingly brilliant. Hers was a most logical and concise decision that positively reeked of human rational, and left a bit of an aftertaste that felt distinctly that of a defense mechanism.

She smiled, content with her ability to rationalize the situation away. She settled back into the wall of pillows which supported her back and sunk her way into the peach colored down comforter. After all the commotion she really hadn't the faintest memory of what she had just read, and reading always helped her to get to sleep. Raising the book back up to her eye level, she read on...

_Damien reached out to her with his words and offered her everything. "Only fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave," pleaded the Goblin King. His heart lay before her, held out to her like a precious jewel. _

The charade was over. There was no way that she was going to be able to rationalize this one away, no matter how she tried, and she knew it. Sarah tossed the book angrily toward the wall, knocking her lamp over with her outburst.

A dangerous feeling rose up inside her as the room went dark, and she bellowed, leaving nothing to the imagination, exactly what she thought of the Goblin King at this moment.

"Jareth!!" She screamed.

Suddenly the silence was eerie. She was left to the darkness with nothing but her labored breathing and the clenching of her fists into the comforter around her. She shuddered, a chill overtaking her, and was rewarded with a resounding tap on her left shoulder.

She turned out of reflex before she could think better of it. And there, illuminated with a few bars of evening light that had managed to sneak through her blinds, was the unmistakable form of the loathsome Goblin King.

His pale face was visible only in gaps that seemed to be strategically placed for his benefit. The high cheekbones that sloped down to his haughty chin proudly displayed his arrogant expression. The tightly pursed lips that produced a resonating sneer throughout the room, with just the faintest hint of an impish humor. Finally Sarah allowed herself to be led where she had first intended not to gaze, back up to his sinister, glinting eyes which reflected more than just the opaque moonlight.

He didn't move for what seemed like hours, and she had begun to wonder if perhaps he was just a part of the decor she had never really paid much attention to before now. She had just about convinced herself of this fact when she took notice of the slight heaving and falling of his chest that signified breathing - which traditionally, the decor took no fancy in.

She gasped, unable to will a single rational thought to rise above the surface of her clouded mind.

Shocked as though she was, she was not about to be left alone and defenseless against the Goblin King in a darkened room in the middle of the night. She scrambled quickly out of her comforter and leaned over to the second lamp by her bedside, not so secretly hoping that if she illuminated her bedroom, the ghost white form of the King would be gone with the shadows like a girlish nightmare.

The light snapped on beneath her fingertips.

She had no such stroke of luck.

If anything, it seemed things had taken a turn for the worst. She was now able to clarify that he was indeed a solid, quite real, non-figment of her imagination. And he was standing rather close to her.

He had remained reclining, poised against the door frame of her bathroom. The halo of glitter that surrounded him transformed her bedroom into an almost otherworldly place, and a nearly regal one at that. At once, he crossed his arms around his chest, his fingers idly toying with the ever present crystal ball.

She didn't move, and breathing seemed almost entirely out of the question. She supposed that this must be what dying felt like, as all resolve to inhale suddenly left her.

He raised a brow in her direction. "You called?"  



	2. Chapter 2 - Page Turner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the way forward is the way back.

  
Author's notes:

The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
Author: Aviry Nolane ([email address removed])  
Date: November 26, 2003 – January 2011  
Notes: Chapter 2, all dressed up with somewhere to go! 

Standard disclaimer: They're still not mine. Just on loan from the good folks at JH.   
  
  


* * *

  
**Chapter 2 - Page Turner**

The urge rose over her like a morning sunrise. It flowed through every pore, every muscle, and every crevice of her being. It enveloped her senses fully, pushing her to her very limits. Her eyes shone with the passion that filled her, and her desire pulled her towards his still form.

She wanted to slap him.

She wanted to slap him across the face, _badly._

Unfortunately, though her body practically steamed with her desire to plant a firm blow across his pompous face, she could not, no matter how she tried, muster the power to force her body parts into action.

Decidedly out of other options, she held firmly to her last resort; attempting to burn holes through him with her eyes.

Apparently, he enjoyed this.

Judging by the amused smirk that wound its way around his features, he was quite satisfied with being assaulted with Sarah's best feral glare.

She was shocked. She was appalled. She was confused.

For a moment, she remained so. However, once she had examined the situation further, the confusion evaporated; leaving only the shock and disgust behind.  
She followed his gaze, which she had realized was not locked on her own, but somewhere beyond her. Or at least, beyond her face.

She gasped when she saw for herself exactly what The Goblin King had fixed his sights on. His eyes followed the smooth contours of her exposed legs that lay tangled in her silken sheets below her. Not that her night shorts left much to the imagination either, which, she reminded herself, wasn't her fault in the slightest.

She hadn't exactly been expecting company. Certainly not his.

She was frozen in place as his eyes traveled up the muscles of her thigh, past her midsection, where she was sure that just enough milky white skin was visible to embarrass her thoroughly, only to be lost in the heaving curve of her breasts. Of course, this is not to say that her breasts were typically bursting at the seams in such an enticing fashion, but she was nearing an apex of emotional tension and found it nearly impossible to fuel her lungs with enough oxygen.

Finished with his rather open appraisal of Sarah's womanly development, Jareth took a slight step forward, leaned against a mahogany bedpost, and raised an eyebrow her way.

"Why so quiet, Sarah? After our last encounter, I thought it would be quite a treat to see you again. Is it possible that you've become such a terrible bore in your old age?"

Sarah's stunned gaze transformed into pure fire and brimstone at this declaration. Sarah was no fair maiden in distress. She had grown up. She had blossomed from vulnerable adolescent to an independent, martial arts trained, mace spray carrying, defensive car key wielding, school of hard knocks, city streets of New York type of girl.

She was not about to be intimidated by some... some... well, ruler of the Underworld or not, he was in her house now, and they we're playing by her rules this time.

"Excuse me, Goblin King, but I fail to see how my behavior, decrepit or otherwise, is any of your concern. In fact", she continued, "I fail to see how your presence here is at all necessary."

His eyes gleamed at this, and she could have sworn he was actually pleased by her astute rebuttal. 

She tried another tactic.   
  
"Get out!" She shouted. "There is no room for a Goblin King under my roof!" He inched closer and she fumed on, "And especially not in my bedroom!"   
  
She received a genuine laugh at her efforts at this, and Jareth slid his slender form onto her bedside.   
  
She internally slapped herself. This was not what she needed. She needed him to back away and disintegrate into the walls or something. Then she needed coffee. Good strong coffee. Then she could wake up in the morning and feel secure when she told herself it was all simply a bad dream.   
  
He reached out a gloved hand and she backed away at this sudden closeness. She didn't know exactly why, but she was suddenly a fifteen year old girl again inside, tumbling backwards against the pull of her sheets she moved out of the way of his touch. No amount of coffee in the world was going to make this seem like a vague dream. It was beginning to border on pornographic.   
  
"I don't think so, Goblin King." She spat. She was well aware of the meaning behind the passages in her novel, and that they had undoubtedly come from the mythological being perched on her bed.   
  
"Really Sarah," he snipped, "I would have thought that we were past the formalities now. I am no more the Goblin King to you, than you are a mere innocent child to me."   
  
His hand moved toward her bared shoulders. Her insides screamed for any logical motivation.   
  
Inside, she may have felt the part of the balking adolescent, but outwardly she appeared every inch the seductive temptress Jareth had imagined her to be. His smirk only grew larger as she drew backwards against the creamy folds of her bedding. Her eyes grew wider with the physical proximity he gained, and if nothing else, he was amused by this.   
  
His clever little Sarah, now nothing but a plaything before him.   
  
He internally counted to ten after she made her little retort, and plastered a snide grin across his lips. 'Oh Sarah', he mused, 'You are too predictable.'   
  
He summoned a crystal to his open fingertips before her. He had, of course, been intending to reach for her, but after careful consideration he decided against this, and instead opted for plan B, conjuring. A nice save, if he did say so himself.   
  
She practically laughed out loud, her midnight charade shattered. So it was this again? Is that all? "Let me guess, Goblin King. This is the part where you offer me my dreams on a silver platter, or at least your version of my dreams, and I get the thrill of turning them down?"   
  
His grin faded into a menacing snarl. "No, dear Sarah. This is the part where I make you understand just how alike you and I really are."  
  
With that there was a loud crash, and the world began to fall away around her. 


	3. Chapter 3 - The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the way forward is the way back.

  
Author's notes:

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back   
Author: Aviry Nolane ([email address removed])   
Notes: Chapter 3, updated and exciting! Please comment if you love it, hate it, or just feel rather meh about the whole thing. I'm trying to squeeze the lemon here! 

  
Standard disclaimer... all those you remember are not mine. If they're not in the movie - they're mine. 

* * *

**Chapter 3 - The Calm **

She squeezed her eyes shut and awaited the blow that was sure to come. Or at the very least, the fall. Her heartbeat wailed furiously in her ears as she waited... waited. And waited.

Finally, she opened her eyes.

Blinking, she looked around at the familiar surroundings.

Her bed. Her lamps, or at least her lamp and the broken remains of the one she had shattered, her walls, her idle picture frames, dressers... Her eyes moved to the place she had first seen him, propped up against the doorway to her bathroom.

Nothing.

She looked back to the bedding around her and gazed warily at the comforter, somewhat paranoid that a crafty mini-Jareth was running about from pillowcase to pillowcase after her. Strangely, she was somewhat surprised when she found no such Lilliputian Goblin King traipsing about in her sheets, snipping at her ankles.

He was gone.

She sighed, her knuckles releasing the thick fabric she had unconsciously gathered around her.

"He's gone," she murmured to herself after a moment. "He's gone."

For some reason this simple statement overjoyed her, and she began repeating it aloud in a sing-songy voice one would usually reserve for the shower. Especially, if they sang as Sarah was known to sing.

Terribly.

This didn't bother her in the least, oddly enough, as she blissfully sang on to the tune of the Star Wars Theme, replacing the lyrics with something to the effect of, "Jareth is gone, oh yes he's gone, he's gone, he's gooone."

She even created a little dance, if you can call it that, which consisted of holding a pillow as a dance partner and shaking it vigorously.

You can't really judge her. The human mind reacts strangely under intense emotional stress.

In fact, it was even quite amusing, if you could find the humor in it. Sarah Williams, hard as nails business operator, fierce competitor, twenty-five year old grown woman...

Unfortunately, the imposing figure in her doorway could find no such traces in the current situation.

He moved into the bedroom as she finished her last rendition of the chorus, the final 'he's gone' falling away from her lips in a dejected moan as her eyes locked with her silent observer.

"He's goo - Ohh" She stammered as he cast a quizzical look in her direction. 'Speaking of things that make no sense at all...' Sarah mused to herself, 'Someone's home early. For the first time. Ever. Tonight.'

She dropped the pillow to her side and smoothed her night clothes with her palms. "Bill," she threw out, "I wasn't exactly expecting you."

"So it would seem." He faltered.

They were frozen for a moment in a rather uncomfortable silence.

He fiddled with his briefcase in the doorway, staring around at the room as if it was his job to do so. She could practically see him typing up an inventory report in his mind's eye as he looked over the room. 'One rug, Persian in design, Maltese import in manufacturing. One dresser, American contemporary. One insane fiancée, 5’6, blue shorts.' It made her want to shake him by the shoulders for no reason at all, maybe just for the sake of impulse.

Instead, she stayed seated. Waiting for him to continue.

After a few moments, the worried, dear in the headlights type look still hadn't left him, and Sarah was beginning to get a bit peeved. 'So I was acting a little... _out of character _, is that a _crime _or something?'

He coughed.

"I didn't know you enjoyed your evenings by yourself so much, Sarah," he offered.

'So that what was bothering him.' Sarah rolled her eyes and laughed out loud. "Oh no Bill," she burst, "I wasn't talking about _you _. I was talking about him, J-"

His eyes lit up, his interest suddenly perking. She froze. "J - J - J -"

In all her training as an actress, Sarah Williams had never botched a line this badly.

But you know what they say about love.

They say lots of things about love; it's very likely they say something that could explain this.

"J -J -Jacon." She finished. "Jacon." She pointed to the television for emphasis. Unfortunately, it was turned off, so it accomplished little good for her case. 

"Jacon. He's an interior decorator." This was getting nowhere. "Who owns a gentlemen's club, in Nassau. On, um, Project Runway. He was just voted off… Gone. You know, ‘Auf’ and all that. Hate him. Oh yes, definitely hate him." He didn't move. "He's gone!" She quipped, smiling.

Internally she laughed, smiling to herself at the idea of presenting her actual situation to him. "Why hello dear, I was just finishing a joyful bout around my bedding with the mythological Goblin King of the Underground. However, I believe he’s gone back to his magic castle. Care for some wine?"

She checked back to gauge his reaction.

He didn't look convinced.

In fact, as she sat there smiling to herself, he became a little concerned. Obviously, you can’t really blame him. She did look a little crazy. He pondered for a moment about the whereabouts of a thermometer in Sarah's kitchen, or perhaps just some bags for ice, before being whisked into bed by a now much recovered Sarah.

Fortunately, Sarah possessed other ways to clear his mind.

Thoughts of the Goblin King would just have to wait.

\- - -

Tens of pairs of tiny leather booted feet rushed into the hall, nearly overcoming their patron though they only reached his waist. He laughed, the grin that swept through him reaching his chocolate eyes and spilling outward into the halls.

"Oh Goblin King, Goblin King! Come out, come out wherever you are!" He called into the now deserted stone corridors. His voice echoed down the long portico halls to the throne room where Jareth undoubtedly sat, simmering in his own thoughts. He made his way into the room, not bothering to announce himself. "Well I hate to disturb you, your liege, but I regret to inform you that this evening’s trip Aboveground was a complete and utter failure." He paused, grinning like a wildcat. If he had been any normal subject of the Underground, he would have been dead by the time the word 'failure' fell from his lips. Fortunately for him, he was nothing of the sort. And he knew it.

Judging by the way the lightning flashed outside the castle walls, the Goblin King was not in a mood to be reckoned with.

The dark colored fae waited, impatiently tapping his foot on a slab of stone.

No word came. The lean form of the Goblin King sat motionless, reclining against the great ledge that swung out over his kingdom. The lightening crashed on.

"Quite the conversationalist this evening, aren't we your royal broodingness?"

The long awaited reaction finally came.

"How incredibly astute of you, Alesander."

The fae winced dramatically, gripping his heart and holding one hand to his tumbling brown locks. "Oh, why Jareth, you have wounded me to the core."

The menacing king turned to face him and carefully stepped off the window ledge.

The ill-fated fae continued on, an outsider would do well to just mutter his last rights now and get it over with. Judging by the sharp look in the king's eye, for this fae there would not be a tomorrow.

And still he continued.

"Really Jareth, I don't think I can go on. Life... Force... Dwindling... Must... Get... Help..."

With a flourish he fell to the floor. Jareth paced the stone floor with a few haughty clicks of his boots and stood above him regally.

A moment passed between the two as the younger, darker haired fae stared up at the imposing king above him. Then something rare happened.... The Goblin King smiled. He reached out a hand to the man on his floor and pulled him to his feet, and the fae laughed joyfully as he wiped his dress coat.

"Honestly, Jareth. You haven't called me Alesandor in over three hundred years. I was beginning to forget I was ever called that at all."

The king nodded, the sky outside was already beginning to clear. "Act like a child and I will treat you like one, Alec."

Alec only flashed an amused smile to his elder friend, "Always the teacher, Jareth?"

"Always."

The two locked eyes for a moment, and it almost seemed as though soon one of them would tear down a royal corridor screaming "You're it!" and bursting with laughter. But the moment passed, unused.

Alec's eyes fell and the mood now changed. "I wish I could say that my purpose here tonight were only to tease you."

"I know."

Alec looked up, amazed not for the first time, at the amount of strength that he saw reflected back at him. "There has been other news."

Jareth took a moment before returning to his throne, spreading a leg out over the arm as if he were in someone's basement, preparing for a night of boxing. Of course, he didn't know what either of these things were, 'basements' or 'boxing', so to him, he looked... subdued. And rather bored.

Which of course, he was neither of.

"Go on." He prompted, raising a gloved hand in Alec's direction.

A chair bumped the back of Alec's knees, and he sank into it. "There has been a date set. In one month the council will meet... here." He paused, "To discuss your reappointment as Lord Protector of the Underground."

Jareth sighed. "I had expected as much."

"There's more."

The Goblin King's figure shifted at his words. "More?"

Alec continued quickly, he wasn't going to like this.

"The alliance will want a fully traditional court meeting. Fully. She will have to be here."

Jareth shifted again, seeming uncomfortable to Alec, but he dismissed this last statement with a wave of his hand. "What other news do you have?"

Alec grinned. This was just like him, get things said and get down to work. Jareth was nothing if not blunt and to the point. "Well, it's more of the same with the Tjari and the Maesonites. Political civil war is still being threatened, the Tjari are calling for help. They're saying the Maesonites must know what has happened to King Facor, and they are increasingly doubtful of their intentions along their borders.”

Jareth scoffed at this. "Fools."

Alec became serious again. "Jareth, you have to understand how serious this is. The alliance is kept in check only by the consistency of the peace of our realm. The Tjari and the Maesonites are both equal parts of that agreement. This battle, no matter how foolish, could threaten our entire way of life."

There was no reply.

"If you are not granted another term as Lord Protector..." He stopped. There was something Jareth had to know. "Jareth, the Fellowship have been spotted in Napora. In the capital." Now Jareth looked genuinely confused, which was exactly how Alec felt. "The reports began coming in a fortnight ago, and I thought nothing of them... But now."

"Yes." Jareth sat up at this, "Now that I must be reaffirmed, the door is open to them."

Alec only nodded.

"But why Napora?" Jareth mused to himself. "Napora is leagues away from the Din'I mountain range. If the Fellowship was truly interested in the mountain range, why would they be gathering so far away from it?"

Alec only shook his head. The presence of the Fellowship in his own lands was disturbing him more than he let on. Their proximity to the Goblin city was even more alarming, but Alec knew better than to mention such a thing aloud. 

The Fellowship was much more than a troupe of ruffians or scavengers; they were a merciless band of thieves and murderers who had plagued the Underground for all of written time. Hundreds of thousands of years later, and still the nomads ravaged on. They asserted, as marauders often do, that their ancient lands had been stolen by the fae of the Underground, and they would not rest until they were returned. 

Of course, this was unlikely, even in a land of mythological marvels; it was especially unlikely given the fact that Jareth’s own father had executed their leader over 5,000 years ago. 

And now, the most sacred land of the surviving Fellowship, the Din'l mountain range, had become the center of an intensifying dispute between usually peaceful neighbors; one of whom now had a missing king.

No, things were not going well at all.

Jareth shook his head and grinned. "Perhaps they're vacationing?" With this he rose and strode to the door, holding an arm out to his friend. Alec shook his arm in the traditional fae style and then pulled a very surprised Goblin King into an embrace, laughing.   
  
"Don't stay away too long now. Nelly and I are expecting you soon. And perhaps that of a guest at the Havait Naiantal ball." He winked, "That is, if she doesn’t kill you first."   
  
With that he vanished, leaving Jareth alone with his thoughts of tomorrow.   
  
And what a day tomorrow would be.


	4. Chapter 4 - A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the way forward is the way back.

  
Author's notes: Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: Aviry Nolane ([email address removed])

Notes: Updated Ch 4 is done! Hopefully I’ll get through all the old chapters this week and start working on some new ones for the weekend. In the meantime, it’s just helpful to get back in the groove – so to speak. Please r&r if you’re enjoying the work so far!  
  
Disclaimer: No, they aren't mine - and Sarah is being such an idiot I wouldn't want her. In fact, that goes both ways - they're both being infinitely stupid and I wouldn't take then at all for the next chapter or two. If you see a character and are confused because you really don't remember them being in the movie, then they most likely belong to me.  
  
Ladies and Gentlemen: without further ado I bring you. Chapter 4.

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**Chapter 4 - A Visitor**

When Sarah woke the next morning he was already gone. Gone. But that didn't exactly make her feel like dancing. It made her grumpy.

There was no one to cook breakfast for her.

She sighed, being engaged to a world renowned chef was one thing, having him home to cook for you was quite obviously another.

The sunlight that shone through her blinds and into her eyes made her think twice about attempting to sleep longer. Crawling out of bed she searched blindly around the room for her sweatshirt.

Some things never change, despite how mature one might feel or appear to be.

Sarah was never a morning person.

Ultimately, after several tense moments of inaction, she discovered her fluffy maroon shirt hanging dejectedly on her doorknob. She pulled it on in one swift motion and gathered her hair into a decidedly dated scrunchy from her bedside table.

She stretched and groaned along with the protest of her strained muscles as she made her way to the kitchen nook of her tiny apartment, the aquamarine carpeting that covered the floors warming her cold feet. She gazed around the room in a glassy eyed stare as she walked to the nook. Her presence was distinctly felt here, and that was more than she could say for anywhere else she had ever lived. She had painted, upholstered, detailed and hand-picked everything in the room. She stopped for a moment to admire it in her half-sleeping daze.

There had always been someone else, Dad or Karen or a roommate, to pick and choose what her home looked like. Now that she lived alone she enjoyed the fact that her apartment was truly a reflection of her, from the light blue walls to the cozy Room and Board decor, the eclectic apartment truly fit her. She enjoyed the feeling of safety her padded apartment gave her, from the bold throws flung haphazardly about the room, to the variable mountains of brightly patterned pillows she had collected throughout the years. After years of feeling unsteady in this world, she had managed to create a warm cocoon for herself to crawl into after a long day of work. She rarely went out, and when she did, there was a slight pang of apprehension that stung her. A night at the theater, a trip out of town, even a night spent at Bill’s, all left her win an anxious desire to return to the safety of her nest. She moved on into the kitchen area and nodded along with her inner monologue. 'Ah, home. Tiny for anywhere else maybe, but immaculately spacious for New York' she reminded herself. 'Almost like a castle.' She chuckled to herself as she pulled a box of pop tarts from her cabinet.

'Ha. A castle. Hm, blue frosting? Mmm. Castle.' She giggled groggily at a mental image of herself making a breakfast of pop-tarts and boxed orange juice in Elizabethan dress. She swept her sweatshirt around her and held the pop tarts like an orb about her as she bowed regally to Sviddy, who watched her without interest from the tiled counter.

Sarah was very tired.

She grinned, "Oh Svidrigailov, you are certainly the most sovereign and stately of any Russian gray I have ever come in contact with." Sarah bobbed her head and began speaking in a very dated, and let's face it, just plain bad - English accent. "I knight thee, Sir. Didymus."

She gasped, and the box of breakfast pastries fell to the ground with a thud.

Where had that come from? She took a moment to appraise the situation. Yes, yes indeed.

_What the hell was she doing?_

Well, whatever it was it was over now. She was not in the mood to tackle the bundle of nervous tension which had somehow led her down a path of late night hallucination only hours before. She would deal with her manic delusions after her morning coffee, if she was going to do so at all. Over the years since her first… episode of neurosis, she had found that complete and utter denial was the most effective tool at her disposal. ‘Sarah, Sarah,’ she chirped privately as she stirred her coffee, ‘You are obviously in need of a break. Childhood fantasies, regardless of how, well, adult they may seem, have no place in your world anymore.’ She bent down, the coffee spoon still dangling from her mouth, to pick up the box of discarded breakfast treats. When she looked up from her sugar gathering position she was met with an indisputable reminder of those _childish_ fantasies she had sworn to suppress.  
"Why greetings, my fair lady! I was wondering when you would have occasion to call me into your service once again."

Her mind reeled. He wasn't here. He was a figment of her imagination. Just like last night. He was a dust bunny. The Goblin King was a shadow. Didymus hadn't just greeted her. The Goblin King did not stare her up and try to kidnap her last night. She was blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Her hands flew to her temples as she tried to maintain her balance.

"I am calm. I am relaxed. I am perfectly sane. There is no talking fox in my kitchen. There is no Underground. And there is certainly no Goblin - Oooh." She stopped short. 

She was sure not going to make that mistake again. Even though he didn't exist. She nodded_. Especially_ because he didn't exist. She was not going to go around chanting his name like some deranged Shirpa just to make a point. No, no - she was confident enough with her stability that she did not have to go to such lengths.  
  
There was certainly nothing in her kitchen. She had nothing to fear. She opened her eyes.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He was. Gone.  
  
Now didn't that sound familiar.  
  
Unfortunately, she didn't have time to make up a new song and dance routine, for at the moment she was reassuring herself of her sound judgment, it seemed Sviddy had gone out of his little kitty mind.  
  
She turned to the small living area in search of her feline companion. "Sviddy" she cooed, "Sviddykins."  
  
_Sviddykins?_ Sviddy he could stand, but _Sviddykins_? For goodness sake, couldn't she see he had a breaking point? He was an individual, a living being, with emotions and feelings. And he was feeling a strong emotion toward the notion of subjecting himself to the name 'Sviddykins'. He mewed to himself.  
  
He knew what he had to do.  
  
This woman had to be taught a lesson.  
  
He pawed the couch fibers beneath him as she bent over to search beneath a table. If he had the ability to cackle, he would have done so, spitefully.  
  
Amateur.  
  
He readied himself for the jump, and --   
  
An ear-piercing shriek filled the air around Sarah.  
  
She turned with alarm, her mind all at once flashing through various episodes of Rescue 911 which involved kittens stuck in heating vents or magazine racks.  
  
What she saw, especially after such an exemplary job of stratifying her sanity, nearly made her fall to the floor in defeat.  
  
"Back away, fair lady!" screamed the airborne fox. A shocked Russian Grey stared out at her from his makeshift prison; a Meijer bag. "I have apprehended the mongrel! You have nothing to fear!" He landed and poked the bag with his 'sword', which looked suspiciously like a large cocktail stirrer.  
  
'Leave it to Jareth to-"  
  
\-- Oh well now. This certainly raised an interesting question.  
  
Or rather, dissolved a vastly significant defense barrier.  
  
If Didymus was real, And he was here, _now._  
  
A certain bedazzled king of the Underground was not as much whimsy or imagination as she would have liked.   
  
Which meant that a very real, very imposing, very tangible Goblin King had been in her bed last night.  
  
Despite her efforts to rationalize, the dreamer in her won out.  
  
She blushed.  
  
Well not _in her bed_ of course, but certainly on it and --   
  
An unexpected gagging sensation ripped at her abdomen. Was she having idle schoolgirl thoughts about the evil, amoral, and painfully overdressed Goblin King of the Underground?  
  
Most certainly not.  
  
"Sarah, get a grip," she berated herself. She rolled her eyes at her absurdity and turned toward the bright yellow tile floor of her pint-size kitchen. She would get coffee. She would deal with this later. She would be fine.  
  
If she had been given appropriate time to adjust, a bit of quiet meditation, a little space to breathe, and possibly a mug of hot chocolate and a bin of yoga tapes, she probably would have been right. Sarah was a very resilient girl, and it is quite likely that had circumstances been ideal she could have managed to pass off even this entire morning as a hallucination.  
  
It's too bad that there wasn't nearly enough of any of these saving graces at her disposal.  
  
The gentle displaced mewing of Sviddy had been replaced by full out shrieking hisses.  
  
She was now suddenly aware of the fact that the impromptu prison bag now had quite a few deep slashes down its side. Didymus was doing his best to help the situation, and so naturally he was worsening the circumstances terribly with his persistent ‘my-fair-lady-ing’ and "vicious scoundrel" this and "ghastly cretin" that. Plus, the way he was jabbing at Sviddy would just not do.  
  
She had to stop this.  
  
Raising herself from her crouched position on the floor, she leapt toward the bag. Gripping it up with a swift hand before Didymus had chance to object, she ran to the study at the front of her home.  
  
She yanked the double doors and tossed the cat, bag and all, onto the top of her desk. She was well aware of the fact that a foolhardy, knee-high fox was hot on her trail.  
  
Judging by the ruckus of ‘art thous’ and ‘wilt thous’ that hemmed her in from behind; he was definitely getting closer.  
  
She shut the doors to the study just as he approached her.  
  
"Why Lady Sarah!" he admonished, "While I will admit that I have never in all my travels encountered a fair maiden as brave and chivalrous as yourself, I would ask that your ladyship does permit my guardianship, as it is my foresworn duty as a knight to -"  
  
His last few words were cut off by the strangling grip of Sarah's arms.  
  
He was quite out of breath and visibly shaken when she finally let him free. Sarah had tried to help the warm smile from spreading across her face, but almost instantaneously, her resolve to rationalize him from existence fell away and was replaced by a warm glow.  
  
After all, Didymus was the short, light and fuzzy type. Jareth had nothing on him.  
  
"Oh Didymus," she sighed, "Whatever would I do without you?"  
  
It was then that she caught sight of the small digital clock over Didymus's furry shoulder.  
  
8:45.  
  
She had fifteen minutes, and she was still embracing a beloved friend and/or figment of her imagination on her living room floor.  
  
Didymus yelped as Sarah tossed him across the room and on to the over-stuffed couch. Rubbing his head with his paws, he righted himself so that his hind legs were again under him.  
  
_Womenfolk._


End file.
